


Perchance to Dream

by curi_o



Category: Firefly
Genre: Challenge: Cliché-a-thon, Community: rayne_shippers, Content: Alternate Universe, Episode Related, Episode: s01e06 Our Mrs. Reynolds, F/M, POV: Jayne Cobb, Relationship: pre-River/Jayne, Topics: Drunkenness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-10
Updated: 2007-09-10
Packaged: 2017-10-28 03:45:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/303385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curi_o/pseuds/curi_o
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short AU tie-in to "Our Mrs. Reynolds".  Jayne sees an angel.  Pre-Rayne.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perchance to Dream

**Author's Note:**

> A response to the LJ community [rayne_shippers](http://rayne-shippers.livejournal.com/)' Cliché-a-thon Challenge. The clichés I included were: The Weight Bench, Drunken Decisions, Sneaky River, Hair Brushing, and Dancing.

Jayne swayed drunkenly through the darkened cargo bay. It had been a good night: lotsa dancin' an' singin' and drinkin' an' a little bit a' gropin', a big stick and some cashy money. That song 'bout the preacher and the twin whores was awful catchy, though the part of him trying to be stealthy thought maybe he oughter keep his voice down some.

A clatter broke the focus he'd been using to put one foot in front of th'other, and he stumbled to a halt, narrowing his eyes. He slowly turned his head from side to side, squinting into the shadows. Stupid cheap Mal and his stupid cheap turnin' off the lights for "conservation." When Jayne failed to pinpoint the source of the noise, he made to continue on his way, only to discover that all that standin' still had got him mighty disoriented and a wee bit dizzy.

He hastily constructed a new plan, this one involving his weight bench and a few minutes of shut-eye. Of course, he had to find the gorram thing first. All he saw where the bench was meant to be was some sort of angel.

Now, Jayne had been drugged one way or another enough times to know a hallucination when he saw one. Usually his imagination provided fun pictures of sparkly naked women complimenting his masculinity and doing naughty things with his weapons. The figure starin' him down was neither naked nor armed, and the fact that she stood a whole six inches taller than him wasn't exactly a self-esteem booster. She was kinda shiny, though, all back-lit and soft-looking in a long white nightgown kinda getup.

For being so intoxicated, Jayne thought with detachment, he was havin' no trouble at all boosting his own self-esteem. Heh. "Self-esteem." He'd have to remember that when he woke up. The angel was soft, all pressed up against him, and looking down at her he was frustrated with the way her crazy dark hair seemed to run in all directions. He left one hand around her waist ( _and since when had they been pressed so close together, and how had the angel shrunk, and she was awful familiar, and was she the woman who'd given him the wine?_ ) and ran the other through her hair. It was kinda brittle for all that it belonged to something so delicate-looking.

The angel called him husband, and when he lay back on the weight bench, she curled onto his chest and started to snore softly, which he thought was rude. It was _his_ hallucination, and _she_ was out first? Just see if he hallucinated _her_ again.

And as the darkness became complete, he thought he maybe would.


End file.
